


Dancing With Starlight

by kirschtrash



Series: Musical Musings [12]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Broadway, Broadway References, Dancer Victor Nikiforov, Dancing, Dancing in the Rain, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Mush, Fluff without Plot, Inspired by Music, Katsuki Yuuri Is a Victor Nikiforov Fan, M/M, Pianist Katsuki Yuuri, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Viktor is a tap dancer, Yuuri has a fuckin mullet, Yuuri is a pianist, here's to a splendid 2021 my dudes, i needed to write this so that i could resolve how shitty 2020 was, just bfs dancing in the rain having a gay old time, they are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28515141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirschtrash/pseuds/kirschtrash
Summary: The day Viktor Nikiforov stopped feeling the music course through his being, that was when he knew he had lost his spark.Did that spark have any chance to be revived? He wasn't sure - well, not until he crossed paths with a certain stranger: a pianist who had a penchant for embodying a melody in more ways than one.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: Musical Musings [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/321950
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Dancing With Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> 2020 sucked ass, so have this tooth-rotting fluff to make up for it.
> 
> [Inspired by City of Stars (Instrumental)~](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yE5PWwoE_3Y)

The day you stop feeling the rhythm in music - that’s when you know you’ve died.

Viktor Nikiforov had been sensing that impending doom for almost the entirety of his career, but he never let it catch up to him. He’d ignore the way his taps were beginning to feel hollow after performing a solo, by drowning himself in the thunderous roars of jubilant cheers; he’d fight the bitter taste of dismay when he couldn’t feel the tones of the piano ringing through him anymore, so long as he could maintain a smile for the crowd. For the most part, Viktor felt that he could outrun the worst of performance blues, as long as he didn’t trip and fall.

But then the fall came. And oh, how it sent him tumbling down.

It came one day, completely out of the blue, in a comically cruel way, when his choreographer played the soundtrack for his next Broadway performance, and Viktor could no longer feel the music. He could no longer respond to the highs and lows of the song like he usually did, could no longer suggest the best sequences to match the pace of the music with the heels of his tap shoes. He just stood still at the center of the stage, the empty walls of the auditorium closing in on him. Suddenly, it felt as if every fiber of his being were resisting the mere idea of dancing to the music, becoming one with it.

The thought terrified him. He could no longer feel the rhythm. The joy from music had finally escaped him.

He had died. And there seemed to be no way Viktor could be revived.

* * *

“ _Vitya_ , relax,” comforted Yakov, albeit in his usual parental tone. “No one will notice you taking a break from performing musical numbers. All the press needs to know is that you’ve got a sprained ankle - they’ll take that and happily run with it.”

Viktor nodded, even though he couldn’t control the sigh that deflated his chest. His eyes were trained at the last dregs of liquor pooling in his glass, wondering about how outrunning the media with a lie like that could only give him a head-start for so long; if he didn’t get his shit together soon enough, then those media hounds would finally catch up.

Like any parent, Yakov sensed his apprehension, and placed a warm grip over his shoulder. “Focus on coming back, Viktor. That matters more than anything else.”

The student smiled up at his teacher, but worry never left his heart. Thankfully, he was able to hide it.

With a kiss on the cheek, Yakov bid him farewell, but not without warning him about the storm that was about to strike their area: “better make it back in one shape!” he shouted, before he vanished outside the bar.

The doors creaked as they closed shut, and the sound was comforting to Viktor’s ears. He was no stranger to the humble abode, after all; a small, ancient bar hidden away in a dingy alley, far away from the busy city life outside, and even farther away from peering eyes. Viktor had been a resident there for as long as he could remember; the first time he ever found the place was many years ago, when he was skipping back to his home from school, only to hear the sound of hooting, clapping - and a faint tapping.

Curiosity had gotten the best of his six-year-old self, and he couldn’t help but make a quick detour, just to follow the sound of that light _tap, tap, tap_. It eventually led him to that very bar, alight with grand light fixtures, thriving with people of all kinds inside. Viktor remembered pressing his face hard against the glass, just to catch a glimpse of the _tap, tap, tap_.

And there he saw it: a man clad in the finest suit, tap-dancing to a pianist’s tune. It seemed as if he were floating on air, stepping in perfect harmony with every note that the piano emanated off of its keys, as if the music were flowing through his very veins. He had the biggest smile on his face, as he captured the eyes - and hearts - of everyone who so much as glanced at him.

All it took was just one glance - and Viktor was enamored as well.

He had remained enamored ever since, hungry not for fame and fortune, but rather for the sole purpose of making others smile through music. Not just any music, but through his own music: tunes he could make with the right cascading steps, a rhythm he could feel thrumming through his body as if he were one with the melody. To surprise the masses with his performances, to make people smile with his own art… there was no feeling quite like it.

_Too bad you’ll never feel it again_.

That single thought alone was enough to send him plummeting back to planet earth, back on the barstool he sat on. Back to reality.

Viktor scoffed at himself. He wasn’t surprised when that single phrase echoed in his mind, over and over and over again. That voice was his only companion, after all; his worst critic.  
He stared at the last untouched drops of alcohol in his glass, and finished it all in one fell swoop. It stung his throat, but he relished it nonetheless. With nothing much to do, he raised a hand to call for another shot -

But then, he heard a single piano key.

Then another, and another, and slowly the random twangs meshed to form one, coherent melody. It had a slow, melancholic start, and yet it sounded… gentle.

Viktor could no longer ignore it; he was completely mesmerized, like a snake-charmer’s flute enrapturing even the slyest of serpents. He couldn’t help himself - he turned to his left, and looked at the platform that rose at the center of the bar, a mini-stage of sorts for performers of all kinds. At the edge, there was a lone, somewhat dilapidated upright - and sat on it, was a man. A man playing music.

Viktor didn’t even realize he had left his barstool until he could feel his footsteps echoing in the otherwise empty bar, unconsciously matching every other beat of the melody. He didn’t stop until all that was left between the stranger and him was the upright’s towering partition. 

He was so close, but the stranger didn’t seem to notice him at all; he was too busy pressing just the right piano keys, never missing a step, never missing a beat. A few strands of his jet-black hair fell over his eyes, but even so Viktor could see how the stranger’s eyes were shut. He did it all with his eyes closed, as if it were second-nature to him. As if he were embodying the music entirely.

Viktor was so close, yet the stranger did not falter. The music kept flowing, and he didn’t want it to stop.

But the illusion crashed with a strong clap of thunder.

Both of them jumped in surprise, but perhaps it was the stranger who was the least prepared: as soon as his eyes landed on Viktor, he gasped, and halted the melody by pressing all the wrong keys at once. The weight of his staggering fingers made the upright shake so hard that all the papers stacked at the front fell to the ground. Viktor was just about to apologize for interrupting, but the stranger had beaten him to it:

“S-sorry, I didn’t s-see you there!” he rambled. “God, you m-must have been standing there for so long and I didn’t even notice, ah- how rude of me-”

Viktor knew that if he didn’t step in somehow, the stranger would just combust out of sheer embarrassment. He quickly cut in, albeit gently: “It’s okay, please don’t worry! I should be the one sorry for interrupting.”

That helped calm him down somewhat, although his face was still beet red. He smiled shyly, lifting a hand to scratch the back of his head, ruffling up his hair even more. Viktor then noticed the papers strewn all across the stage floor, and knelt to help collect them.

The stranger immediately followed suit, stammering as he did: “Oh please, you don’t have to, really-”

“Hey, it’s alright, ‘s the least I can do,” Viktor reassured once more, smiling as he did.

That made the stranger fall silent, but it didn’t stop him from joining Viktor in cleaning up the mess. And it was quite a lot - from the upright, it didn’t seem as if there were many papers at all. But in reality, there must have been at least a dozen sheets of music; some had crosses and hatches covering huge sections, while others had small annotations and notes scrawled tightly in the corners. It didn’t seem to be music sheets one could get from stores, or from instructors. That was confirmed when he lifted up what seemed to be a title page, not with the song’s name, but with two words: _Yuuri Katsuki_.

“You made these, didn’t you?” Viktor asked. With such an awkward first meeting, trying to strike a casual conversation wouldn’t be too bad, right?

Fortunately, the stranger - Yuuri? - responded. “Well, yeah. I wrote them, but it’s not exactly my own.” He plucked three more sheets and stacked them over one another, chuckling while he did. “I can’t compose an original piece even if my life depended on it.”

Viktor laughed as well. “Ah, I see, I see. So what song is it?”

The other man hummed at first, pressing a finger to his chin. He was looking up, as if he were trying to find a memory from the recesses of his mind. “Well... I've never really known the name, but it’s a song you’ve performed on. It was your very first Talent Festival, I believe…”

That took Viktor back about ten years, back to a memory so vivid that he felt his breath hitch: he was minutes away from his live ' _breakthrough_ ' debut, and he couldn't stop tying and untying his tap-dancing shoes over and over again, making sure that they were secure as ever. He could tell Yakov was saying something in his peripheral vision, most probably scolding him to stop messing with his laces so much, but he could not hear a single word. His blood was racing, his heart was pounding.  
Viktor remembered stepping on the stage, however. He remembered seeing the crowds’ faces alight with glee, with wonder, with amazement as they followed his every move, every echoing tap, every twirl. They could barely keep their eyes off of him, and when his music ended - oh, how they cheered.

As poignant as the memory was, he was brought back to the present as soon as he registered the stranger staring at him, his brown eyes shining. Viktor didn’t know what surprised him more: the fact that he knew who Viktor was for as long as a decade, or that he could write such an old song’s entire musical composition without even knowing its name.

In any case, his heart skipped a beat.

What did surprise him, though, were his own words:

“Play it for me, please.”

Viktor did not know where the hell did that level of conviction come from, and it seemed to have caught even the other man off-guard.

Once again, he blushed profusely. “W-wait, what? B-but I’m not good at it, at-at all-”

“I don’t care."

“But-”

“Please,” he insisted, even though he knew better than to force a stranger to play a song for him out of nowhere. He didn’t know why he was being so persistent - all he knew was that it felt like the right thing to do.

“I- I have to hear it. Please,” he said, thrusting the music sheets at him.

That must have done the trick; even though the pianist was biting his lip out of fright, he nodded ever-determinately.

And with that, he compiled his sheets of music and resumed his seat back at the upright. Viktor went back to standing behind the piano’s towering wall, his arms crossed on top of the wooden surface. He licked his lips, and sighed deeply through his nose, settling himself into a trance-like state.  And then, his fingers began to glide across the piano keys, almost as if they were floating in air - and the music seemed to cascade along with him.

God, it sounded just like Viktor remembered it: sweet, spirited, yet so gentle. It was starkly different from his more popular pieces, all of which were quite upbeat and fast-paced - enough ‘ _Broadway_ ’ to keep the masses entertained until yet another performance. But none of them were quite this… captivating: hopeful, in the way the lows were always met with powerful highs; nostalgic, in the way the melody flowed like a cherished memory.

Viktor’s eyes were first trained on the stranger’s fingers, but then they began to trail up his arms, where his office shirt’s sleeves were rolled over quite haphazardly; they even glossed over his disheveled hair, resembling an unkept mullet of sorts. His stare then landed on his face, and he realized that his eyes were shut once again. Viktor smiled at the way he had practically lost himself into the music, perhaps following the melody wherever it took him. From the way his cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, and a smile formed on his lips… he could tell that it was a beautiful place.

He had just reached the climax of the tune, just when the pace began to pick up. The stranger was bobbing his head with the rhythm, and Viktor realized he was mirroring his every move. Tapping his fingers along the wooden top of the piano, he couldn’t help himself: he slowly made his way to sit beside the pianist, gently so that he didn’t disturb his flow.

Fortunately, he didn’t - but then, nothing he could do would disturb him, really. The musician was completely lost in the music, as if him pressing the right order of keys one after another was an act as simple as breathing. He was tapping his feet along with the beat, and Viktor felt himself doing the same. The stranger’s eyes were still shut, but this time the edges were crinkled, filled with mirth; now, he was biting his lip, but that was because he was trying to suppress an even brighter smile.

Yuuri was lost in the music, sure - but Viktor was lost in  _ him _ .

With four more keys pressed one after another, the music slowed to its end. The last note echoed in the air, and after that it was just silence.

Despite the silence, Viktor’s heart was roaring in his chest, as if he had just performed in front of an entire audience.

Right then, he couldn’t help himself: “You play beautifully, y’know.”

The man blushed yet again and laughed softly, scratching his cheek abashedly. “T-thanks… Ever since I first saw the performance on television, the very first time it aired, I… it’s as if the tune never left my mind. Whenever I feel like the world’s turned against me, I always go back to this song… I don’t know why, but it’s so warm, it- it feels like magic.”

Viktor felt his chest tighten. He tried to smile, even though it tasted so, so bitter. “Magic, huh? Then it must be cruel to lose something so precious...” _Too bad I will never be able to recreate it_.

“I don’t think of it that way,” he said, without even the slightest stutter. “If someone’s managed to make something that... special, it-it means they’re capable of magic, right? And anyone who has that kind of magic, I don’t think they could ever lose that spark.”

"How are you so sure?"

A shrug, and then: "Those sparks... you don't find them in everyone; only people like you are gifted with them, and- and for good reason: to make others feel special. Something as valuable as that can't just die."

Viktor was at a complete loss for words, and he didn’t know why: was it because of the beautiful song he just listened to? Or was it because of the man’s sincerity?

He didn’t really know why. All he knew was that the stranger was looking at the piano keys, with the sweetest smile. All he knew was that he had never met quite anyone like him.

Again, Viktor couldn’t help himself: “Your name’s Yuuri, right?”

The man nodded, and turned to his right. Just then, their eyes met. This up close, he was almost certain that those eyes carried in them pure starlight.

But then, they were interrupted by the crack of lightning. Then came the downpour.

That seemed to have caught Yuuri off-guard - so much so that he got up from his seat entirely. It seemed as if he had completely forgotten that Viktor was right there, as he started making his way off the stage, and towards the entrance. Viktor’s eyes just trailed along him, as he raised an eyebrow. Where the hell is he going…?

Viktor had no control on his impulses at this point; he too got up and followed him around the roundtables, through the creaky bar doors - and out in the rain.

The rain was cold, welcome after weeks of sweltering heat. But Viktor had other things in his mind; more specifically, he was completely focused on Yuuri, who was now taking strides out the alley, stopping only when he stood on the clear footpath.

The world around them was practically shrouded in a gloom, as the last rays of sunlight vanished behind thick grey clouds, and a curtain of rain. There was practically no one out there; far and wide, the streets and pavements were clear, void of people entirely. Maybe they were the ones who found their warm homes a lot better than the cold, relentless rain.

But for some reason, Yuuri was not one of those people.

In fact, he had his face tilted up towards the sky, eyes closed as he relished the raindrops that fell on his skin. And he was smiling.

(Oh, how enamored Viktor was.)

He didn’t want to break the silence; he was too busy just staring at Yuuri, waiting for a surprise. _What’s next?_

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Yuuri began to sway his shoulders gently. One way, and then the other. Three more times - until he began to tap his feet.

Even though the downpour of rain was loud and boisterous, he instantly recognized the rhythm: _tap, tap, tap_. Was it just mere coincidence, or had Yuuri memorized every step of his first live performance too?

He was reflecting the first few tapping sequences down to a T, and yet it didn’t feel like a copy, or a fake; it felt… different. His movements were fluid, the taps cascading off his heels as easily as rain trickling down his hair. Once again, his eyes were closed, lost in his own music. Once again, he was smiling.

(Was Viktor smiling too? He couldn’t tell - he couldn’t care.)

A few more steps, and then Yuuri made a twirl. His waist swayed with an unsung melody, and after turning a full rotation, he looked back at Viktor, eyes bright and vibrant. He raised his hand, and pointed a finger at him.

_Your turn_ , he seemed to say.

As soon as the thought formed in his mind, he felt the parasite of doubt bite back. Yuuri didn’t know that the star in him had died; he didn’t know that he had lost his spark - how could he expect Viktor to just start dancing without even a beat in his heart? God, his chest suddenly felt tighter, his limbs growing as heavy as lead. It felt as if he were drowning.

Perhaps he was, but the one thing that kept him afloat was the hope in Yuuri’s eyes. They were bright, despite the rain.

A spark of lightning brightened the sky for a split second, followed by a clap of thunder; suddenly, the rain fell harder than before. But that seemed to make Yuuri smile grow even more, as he motioned towards Viktor once more: _it’s your turn!_

With a contagious sort of affliction, Viktor smiled too. He couldn’t resist; he tried his luck at just one sequence, the one he knew that came right after the point that Yuuri left off on. It was a measly attempt, something Yakov would most definitely have scolded him for if he had done that in front of anyone.

And yet, Yuuri smiled so damn widely, as if he had just won the Flo-Bert Award for the third time. In fact, he took it from there, continuing from where Viktor stopped. His every move, his every step, his every technique was unlike anything Viktor had ever seen; it felt as if he were creating the music himself, with nothing but the rain, the thunder and his feet as his instruments. It flowed through his body, and it showed through his smile.

That smile… It was as contagious as his rhythm, and it was all he could do before he followed suit. At the start, he simply went along the same route that Yuuri took, matching his every step, his every twist and turn. Other times, he felt courageous enough to try something different - maybe a twirl at one point, and a side-step-glide the other - anything to catch Yuuri by surprise, just to see his reaction. And he would simply laugh, tilting his head up in pure merriment.

There must have been a million and one ways Viktor might have made a technical error here, or a dozen missteps there, things he would have most certainly pointed out to himself if he were performing alone. With his own worst critic as his only audience member, he would have given up entirely.

And yet, at that very moment, Yuuri stepped into a puddle and twirled. It sent a spray of droplets all over Viktor, and it made him burst into laughter. He realized that he didn’t care. For the moment, nothing else mattered, because he wasn’t performing alone.

Thunder rumbled on above their heads, but it felt so distant. The pitter-patter of the rain felt faint, even though they were surrounded by it. All that mattered was the two of them, with their eyes locked, refusing to look away from each other. All that mattered was the song that had completely taken over the pair - a song only the two could hear.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, Yuuri raised a hand towards him, and Viktor grabbed it by instinct. He almost regretted his decision, thinking that he just might have very well freaked the other man out-

But then, he felt the grip around his palm tighten. Yuuri took that as a chance to make one final pirouette underneath his arm, before closing the distance between them. Suddenly, one of Yuuri’s hands were on Viktor’s shoulders, and the other still tight in his hand, their fingers now intertwined.  
Viktor couldn’t help himself; he wrapped his other arm around his waist, and brought him closer. Yuuri didn’t seem to resist; maybe it was a trick of his eyes, but it felt as if Yuuri’s smile became brighter.

As their song began to near its end, so did their taps, fading slowly and surely, until the two stood swaying in the middle of the footpath. There was not a soul in sight, but Viktor wasn’t focused on anything around him - not the rain, not the lightning, not even his own doubts. His eyes were entirely set on that stranger in his arms. The man who just made him dance to a song he made his own, even when Viktor felt like he had lost the dancer in him. Yuuri, who seemed to smile like the sun, and who’s eyes glimmered like starlight.

Viktor truly felt free. For once, he felt free.

Yuuri broke the silence with a smile so gentle, Viktor felt his breath leave his chest. He tilted his head to one side, and looked up at him earnestly. “And you said it’s hard to recreate that magic, hm?”

At that exact moment, Viktor felt something burn within him. It was faint, it was subtle, but it was there - a spark. A light that he thought had gone out forever.

Maybe the wetness on his cheeks were his own teardrops mixed with the rain. Maybe he had gripped Yuuri’s hand tighter, and pulled him even closer. Maybe he had stood in the rain with the man for an eternity.

He wasn’t really sure. But one thing he was certain of: the magic in him had never died. It was just waiting to be reborn. Perhaps it was waiting for a miracle like Yuuri.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's me shamelessly talking about tapdancing bfs after 6 fuckin years. So let me know how i did!! 
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kirschtrash) and [Tumblr](https://kirschtrash.tumblr.com/) if ya wanna scream at me
> 
> Here's to a great 2021 for everyone <3


End file.
